


Are You Anything Akin to Me?

by NikkiKatie



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiKatie/pseuds/NikkiKatie
Summary: A reimagined Season 3, Episode 2. I have always imagined things going differently when Gilbert chaperoned Anne on that train ride to Charlottetown.Longtime reader of Anne with an E fanfic, first time writer of it. I just couldn't get this story out of my head.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 36
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a nod to Jane Eyre.

The Bright River train station comes into view and Anne leans her head onto the back of the carriage bench, trying to calm her breathing, lest Marilla begin to lecture her about getting overexcited. What other emotion could she possibly feel as she embarks on a life-altering journey like this?

Marilla uncharacteristically fidgets beside her, making it difficult for Anne to find even just a moment of peace to regulate her own nerves, squeezed as they are sitting three-wide with Matthew. Marilla’s steady nature is typically a reliable source of comfort to Anne’s more erratic emotional state. But without even that to ground her this morning, all Anne can hope for now is a quiet train ride to Charlottetown to mentally prepare for her visit to St. Alban’s orphanage.

As the Cuthbert trio disembarks from their carriage, Gilbert Blythe approaches.

“Good morning, Mr. and Miss Cuthbert. Good morning, Anne. I’ll see you on the train, yes?”

“Oh, Gilbert, thank you again for agreeing to chaperone Anne. Keep a close watch over her, she’s so distracted today she’s likely to end up fainting in a ditch somewhere, I just know it.”

“Marilla!” Anne shouts. She catches an amused smile from Gilbert out of the corner of her eye. That’s just great, she thinks. Gilbert Blythe thinking I’m so incompetent I can’t even survive a train ride without his help.

“Anne, it’s true, your imagination has been running absolutely wild about today, I think I might never get your head out of the clouds. Gilbert, again, we are ever so grateful for your help.” Marilla lovingly pats Gilbert’s arm.

“I’m happy to do it. I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.” He tips his cap and boards the train, leaving Anne and Marilla to continue to fuss at each other.

“Dead in a ditch, Marilla? Could you possibly conjure up a more embarrassing thing to say? I will be perfectly fine, and I certainly don’t need Gilbert Blythe’s help!”

“Nonsense, Anne. Of course you need a chaperone. You are lucky to have such kind and level-headed friends like Gilbert and Cole to assist you today. Otherwise Matthew and I would never have agreed to this foolish quest.”

Anne groans, but she’s anxious to get on with this adventure, even if it is, in Marilla’s eyes, foolish. 

“I promise to keep out of ditches and stay with Cole the entire day. I’ll see you this evening.” With that said, she turns to give a quick hug to Matthew and boards the train without looking back. If she had, she would have seen tears forming in Marilla’s tender, concerned eyes.

Anne throws herself down in the seat across from Gilbert in such a frenetic state that their knees bump together, causing Gilbert to look up from his book.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Anne says, letting out a long sigh in frustration.

“You’re not disturbing me. If anything, you seem disturbed. Is everything... ok?”

Anne’s forehead wrinkles. “Ugh. It’s just Marilla. She thinks I am completely incapable of caring for myself. I don’t know why she fusses at me as if I’m a baby. As if a woman is unable to get through a day on her own. It’s such a backwards way of thinking.”

She looks away, out the window, knowing she has already said too much. As usual. 

“I don’t think she thinks that, Anne. She just worries because she cares. About you. It’s sweet, actually.” Gilbert picks up his book again.

Anne tries not to look directly at Gilbert now, but she notices a somberness in his reflection on the train window. And while it would have been easy to slip into a comfortable silence with him, and therefore allow her to sit with her own complicated feelings about the day ahead, she knows she has hit a tender spot within him by complaining about Marilla’s motherly tendencies. He’d probably be grateful for even a memory like that with his own mother.

So she does what she always seems to do whenever she’s with Gilbert and things start to get too intense. She changes the subject.

“You can’t possibly find train rides so boring as to need to read to pass the time. I think they are the absolute height of excitement and adventure!” She smiles at him broadly, trying to brighten his spirits.

“Well, not typically, no, I do enjoy a journey. But I dare say that this weekly train ride to Charlottetown has actually become routine for me.”

He pauses, and gives her one of his infamous deep stares that always make her feel a bit unhinged.

“But I would like to hear all about whatever spectacular plans you have for your day ahead. Because if it’s anything like the last time you and I rode this train together, it’s sure to be entertaining.” He smiled and lifted an eyebrow in comradery, both of them recalling her previous rebellious (and highly illegal) train ride in the cargo hold with their classmates.

Anne giggles a little, which is both her natural reaction to the memories of that fateful day, but also buys her some time to consider Gilbert’s request. She hadn’t thought about having to share the reason for her trip to Charlottetown today with Gilbert Blythe. Only her innermost circle of loved ones knew about her plans to visit St. Alban’s orphanage to learn more of her personal history. Her lineage, as Miss Stacey had called it in class. Was Gilbert a fit in that circle? 

She has only really thought of him as an academic rival, a thoughtful classmate, a perfect gentleman (when he wasn’t teasing her, of course), and, at her most heartfelt moments, as someone on the periphery of her new-found family, given the affinity that the Cuthberts have for Gilbert and Sebastian and Mary generally. Every once in a while, when alone in the quiet of night, she has also wondered if there could ever be more between them. But she quickly pushes that thought away, before a blush has a chance to rise up her cheeks.

But does she see him as a confidante, worthy of sharing one of her innermost secrets? Similar to what she would share with Diana and Cole, or Marilla and Matthew? 

She is full of uncertainty about that as she looks up at him. He’s staring at her expectantly, waiting for her reply. Something about the kindness in his eyes, and remembering that he, too, knows the pain of a lonely childhood and the loss of family, suggests to her that yes, in fact, Gilbert Blythe might just be the perfect thought partner for contemplating the day ahead. And so she sits up a little straighter and begins to fill the space of their hour together on the train.

“Well, I want to know more about my parents.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Avonlea's two most noble dragon slayers swap roles for the day.

The train ride to Charlottetown should have been the easiest part of the day ahead. But describing portions of her painful childhood to Gilbert was anything but easy. Sharing anything about her past with anyone was never easy, actually. As someone who usually speaks with complete freedom (Marilla would call it reckless abandon), she found herself gritting her teeth to keep the darkest of memories at bay.

Although she could be talking about something as boring as algebraic equations with Gilbert, and those smoldering eyes of his staring into her soul would make the moment seem even more meaningful to her. To them both? She could never quite tell if he felt that way, too. It was part of what made her so nervous around him. As she had suspected, though, he had listened attentively and asked thoughtful questions, and while the train ride wasn’t relaxing, it wasn’t unpleasant either. 

She didn’t reveal any intimate details, of course. Just the simple facts and circumstances surrounding her time at both the asylum and with the Hammonds. None of the taunts, bullying, neglect, and other forms of abuse she had endured. 

As they step off the train, the sun is shining brightly, and now Anne can take a deep breath while beginning the walk to Aunt Jo’s. She will ditch Gilbert’s deep stares and probing questions for the comfort of Cole’s far more relaxed and pleasant company, and knowing this lightens her mood immediately. 

“So tell me more about Cole and the circumstances that brought him to living with Diana’s aunt. I’m sure there’s a story or two to tell there, and you seem the perfect person to tell such a tale.” Gilbert winks at her casually.

“Oh. Um. Well, it’s um, complicated, as you might guess. And, well, it’s not really my story to tell.”

“I’m, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… it was presumptuous of me to ask. I--I don’t even really know Cole.”

Anne feels the need to change the subject again, and fast, before she sticks her foot in it. She simply cannot reveal Cole’s very private backstory, even if she does consider Gilbert to be trustworthy and open-minded.

“All you really need to know about Cole is the one thing you two have in common.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

“A shared history of slaying the infamous and evil dragon of Avonlea: Billy Andrews.”

They both laugh at this and for the last few minutes of their walk to Josephine Barry’s, the pair chats casually.

“I’ll say a quick hello to Cole before I leave you to the rest of your quest,” Gilbert says as they approach the door to the stately mansion. “I want to make sure to pass along Marilla’s warning to keep you out of any ditches.” Anne groans as she puts her hand toward the door.

Practically anticipating her knock, Aunt Josephine flings the door open in a frenetic state.

“Oh dearest Anne, my telegram must not have arrived in time.”

“Telegram? Aunt Jo, what telegram?”

“Cole is quite ill! The doctor has just left, and -- oh no, sweetheart, he’ll be fine,” Aunt Jo pauses a moment to grip Anne’s hands, reassuring her when she sees her face has gone pale in shock and concern. “But sadly, he isn’t well enough to travel on the ferry with you today.”

“Oh dear. I’m, I’m so relieved he’s ok but heartbroken that he’s ill. May I see him?”

“And risk catching his cold and fever? Absolutely not. Marilla would never forgive me. I tried to get word to you in Avonlea before you made the trip here.”

“Oh. It’s ok. It’s, it’s fine. I’ll just--”

“You’ll stay here with me today and we’ll catch up. I’ll send another telegram to the Cuthberts so they needn’t worry about you. I have so much to tell you about Cole’s art and education and the happenings here in Charlottetown, dear girl.”

“Aunt Jo, that’s so kind of you,” Anne responds graciously. “But you don’t have to sit with me. I’ll just deposit myself in your library and soothe myself with your magnificent collection of books all day,” she forces herself to smile. 

It’s at this moment that a certain friend who had remained in the shadow of Aunt Jo’s door notices the disappointment that bubbles below the surface on Anne’s face.

“I could take her to St. Alban’s,” he intervenes.

Aunt Jo had not even noticed Gilbert’s presence at the door, but she turns her attention to him.

“Well, my heavens, you must be Mr. Blythe. Cole mentioned you were accompanying Anne on the train.” 

As Gilbert and Aunt Josephine introduce themselves properly to one another, confusion sweeps over Anne. Not even one breath ago, she was, rather pathetically, trying to hide her disappointment over the abrupt ending to her planned journey for the day due to Cole’s illness, convincing herself that a day of reading in Aunt Jo’s library would be just as well. But now she faces an even more troubling option: Gilbert Blythe getting a far more intimate introduction into Anne’s past than she would prefer.

Gilbert was a fine companion on the train, but could he handle whatever is to come next? Could she handle herself in his presence all day? “Brain, stop it,” she tells herself. She could sit beside Gilbert on the ferry, just as she had on the train, then leave him to wait for her outside the door at St. Alban’s. He would learn no more than he already did about her checkered past. It could be that simple. She need not complicate matters with her overactive imagination. That settles it in her mind.

“Ok,” she says abruptly, interrupting Gilbert and Aunt Josephine’s pleasantries. 

“Ok, what?” Gilbert responds.

“Ok, you may accompany me on the ferry.”

Aunt Josephine promises to send word to Dr. Ward (who, ironically, had just spent the past hour assessing Cole’s health, so Gilbert could be assured he would understand and forgive his apprentice’s absence, given his spotless attendance record). 

Anne and Gilbert quickly say their goodbyes to Aunt Josephine in order to make their ferry departure on time. As Anne hugs Aunt Jo, the kind, wise woman whispers in Anne’s ear.

“Quiet your mind, dear.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert contemplate what ifs...

The ferry pulls away from Charlottetown’s port, and Anne tries to settle into her seat. Gilbert returns his attention to the medical book he had kept on his lap but not read at all during their train ride, because instead he had focused his attention on Anne. Seeing him now, it dawns on Anne the enormity of the sacrifice he has made for her today.

“Thank you, Gilbert,” she says without thinking, simply overcome with gratitude.

He looks up at her curiously, with those same unrelentingly passionate eyes.

“For what?”

“For everything. I mean, for today. For giving up your day with Dr. Ward. For me. I shouldn’t have accepted your offer. I’m… I’m being selfish, taking you away from your studies today.”

“Anne.”

She forces herself to hold his gaze.

“Today is important. To you. More important than a day at Dr. Ward’s.”

His face is so full of compassion for her that Anne finds it hard to look at, like staring at the bright sparkle out on the water on this sunny day. She tells herself that this affection is merely because he considers Anne a friend, and Gilbert is just the type of person to do something this generous for a friend. 

“Well, then let’s spend our ferry ride talking about you. You heard enough about me on the train.” Again, she changes the subject to take her mind off of his blindingly beautiful face.

“Ha. Well, that will make it a much more boring part of our day, then. Um… what would you like to know?” he asks. Now it is his turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He removes his cap and runs his hands through his dark curls. She wonders, for just a fleeting moment, if she makes him nervous, the way he does her.

“Tell me about your time at sea. I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces from you and Bash. And I am ever so starved for tales of adventure beyond the confines of our little Avonlea.”

Gilbert laughs, knowing all about Anne’s imagination and desire for excitement. He’s not sure he can do it justice, he tells her. He doesn’t have her gift for describing fantastical sites, and food, and people. But he tries and they fall into a wonderful conversation as they inch closer to Nova Scotia. 

“What was the most exciting time of the whole journey? Or is it too hard to choose?” she asks.

“No. Not at all. There’s one very clear moment. It’s how I realized I want to become a doctor.”

He tells her about the woman in Trinidad. The unimaginable circumstances this woman was facing. The breach birth. And how he was able to help.

“So is it the thrill of bringing a baby, a new life, into the world that is pushing you toward medicine, do you think?”

“No, I don’t think it was that.”

His voice has gone quiet and he is no longer looking at Anne. He stares off into the distance as he continues.

“It was how it felt to finally not be helpless. After watching my dad die, not being able to do anything to stop it. For years, Anne. I could do nothing. And then, in just seconds, I could help this stranger. What if I had known more? Earlier? To help him? And what if someone could have helped her… when I was born. My mother.” His shaky voice trails off and, through her own tears, Anne sees his eyes turning red and wet as well.

She instinctively puts her hand on his and they both sit in heartbroken silence. So very different from the time she had tried to comfort him at his father’s grave on the day he was buried. She has learned so much since then.

She knows now what she has perhaps always known, but never admitted. Gilbert Blythe is one of the most precious, treasured people in her life. As he sits beside her now, processing his own what ifs and personal demons, Anne reckons with her own. 

What if he had never come home? Back to Avonlea, back into her life? What if her rude comments to him the day of the funeral had driven him away forever? And why does she still keep him at an arm’s length? Why doesn’t she embrace him as the kindred spirit he so clearly is, the way she does Diana and Cole and Matthew and Marilla? Why does she constantly put up a wall with him, just like she did on the train, never telling him the full story?

She knows why, of course. It is the fear that he’s more than another kindred spirit. That those mystical eyes of his might hold her future tragical romance, that her feelings for him will never be returned. But if she is to face her past today, she must also face the potential and perhaps inevitable pain of her future. Because when she does as Aunt Jo asked of her, when she quiets her mind to her most simple thoughts, she understands. This is too important. He is too important.

“Gilbert?” 

He looks over at her.

“Will you come inside St. Alban’s with me today? I was going to have you wait outside, but I think… I think I might need… um…”

“Yes, of course I will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I lived here once."

She smooths the fabric on her simple dress as she, for the second time that day, finds herself at a door, this one far less welcoming than Aunt Jo’s back in Charlottetown. 

“You can do this,” she tells herself. She has to, if she wants to fulfill her every desire, the goal of what brought her here today. If she wants to learn more about her parents, she has to step back into this most painful of memories.

She and Gilbert creep through the quiet, dark asylum and up the stairs. Voices trickle out of a doorway on the second floor, and she recalls that this is the headmistress’ office. She takes a seat outside the office and Gilbert tucks himself in beside her.

“Take them! You have to take them! I can’t take care of ‘em,” the panicked cries pierce the intimidating silence that has surrounded them since they walked in. The man’s desperation seems to bounce off the cold, empty walls and land right onto Anne’s lap. Both she and Gilbert sit completely still in the tension.

“Papa, no!!!!! You can’t leave us!” There is now sobbing, guttural and raw, coming from deep within a child. A young child, from the sound of it. 

Gilbert starts to stand up, but Anne puts her arm across to stop him. She knows this place. Has heard these cries too many times. There is nothing to be done. Gilbert sinks back into his chair.

“Get off me, boy. I can’t do it. I told you already. Stop being so mouthy. Look after your sister.”

As the man storms off, there is only the screaming of children for “papa” left behind. His boots stomp down the stairs and out the door. No final goodbye, no sentiments of love and regret and sorrow shared between father and child. 

Before Anne can catch her breath and recover from this dramatic scene, a young woman emerges, with two wailing children tucked under each arm and she marches up the stairs, taking them even further away from who they so desperately plead for: their father. The woman’s motions are robotic. As if she has done this before. As if she has done this countless times before.

Gilbert’s eyes are full of fear as he turns to Anne.

“What will happen to them now?”

“Um… I’m not sure, exactly. I was… too young to remember what it was like when I came here. At the beginning.”

“Oh, Anne…”

But before Gilbert can finish his thought, a stern-looking woman emerges from her office and glares down at them.

“What do you want?”

Anne stands up and stares, and for a moment, she is too intimidated to speak. This woman’s face brings back a flood of feelings of isolation, hurt, neglect, loneliness. She is overcome with homesickness for Marilla’s steadfastness, Matthew’s kindness, Diana’s tenderness, Cole’s understanding. Sensing her hesitation, Gilbert immediately stands up beside her. Instead of speaking on Anne’s behalf, though, as most men might feel compelled to do, he just gently places his hand on the small of her back. A touch so inconspicuous the headmistress doesn’t notice, but to Anne, it is everything. Her spine straightens in response to his touch of support and her boldness is restored.

“I wondered if you knew anything about my parents. Records, or papers, or… a memory? I lived here once. I’m Anne Shirley. Anne Shirley Cuthbert, now. I’m…” she knows she’s beginning to ramble and she tries to refocus. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins again. “I’m looking for information about Walter Shirley and Bertha Willis.”

“I’m very busy, miss. You’ll have to be more specific. How many years ago were ya dumped here?”

“I was NOT. DUMPED HERE.” 

The matron snorts and repeats herself. “How many years ago?”

“Well, it would have been 16 years ago, roughly.”

“I’ll have nothing then. Those records were all destroyed.”

“De… destroyed? How… how could that be?” 

“Yes, girl. You heard me. It was the rats. We had an infestation a couple years ago.” 

Gilbert lets out a gasp and the woman turns toward him. He stares at her defiantly, not hiding his disgust at the thought of vermin being allowed to roam in a building full of innocent children.

“In the basement, of course, never in the living spaces. We maintain the highest of standards at this facility… er, I mean, this home.” She corrects herself but her slip of tongue tells Gilbert everything he needs to know about this woman and the care she provides. Or better said, the lack of care.

“See yourself out,” she says with a look of finality. 

“But don’t you remember? Walter and Bertha? Me?” Anne’s voice is desperate.

“No, I most certainly do not.” The woman retreats back into her office and slams the door.

Gilbert’s hand hasn’t left Anne’s back, so in one fluid motion, he is able to get her to the stairs. Anne grips the railing as though she needs it to keep herself upright. She had been anticipating this day for weeks, and had imagined so many scenarios playing out. But she had never pictured leaving with more questions and more uncertainty than before. And certainly not more heartbreak. It was unbearable.

Gilbert, never taking his eyes off Anne, notices her distress and guides her to a bench on the ground floor of the asylum. They sit in silence for a moment.

Questions race through Anne’s mind. What brought her to St. Alban’s sixteen years ago? Was it, as she had always believed, her parents’ tragic death? Or was it something far darker, something more like the desperation of that scene they had just watched play out? Had she even been wanted? Loved? 

Did anything good come from her birth, from her childhood? From her being a human on this earth?

“Gilbert, stay here. I need to go see something.”

“Anne! I … I am not leaving you!”

Anne is shocked for a moment, given what an uncharacteristic outburst this is for him. 

“Not here. In this… this horrible place,” he explains.

“Fine. Follow me.”

She races up the stairs and he is a few steps behind her. They make their way to the attic and she frantically pulls up a loose floor board, knowing right where to look, the memories as much a part of her as the freckles on her skin. And there they are. Scraps of paper, full of writing. Her writing, Gilbert recognizes her distinct penmanship immediately. He bends down to take a closer look, but Anne immediately covers them and puts them to her chest and closes her eyes.

“What is this? What are these?” he whispers.

“This is all I have from my childhood. And it wasn’t even real.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can only know something when you know it.

“So ya got yourself knocked up, huh?”

Anne and Gilbert are in such a rush to get out of this insufferable orphanage that they don’t notice a girl about their own age, crouched down on the ground near the front door, scrubbing the floor. Their feet skid to a stop.

“Excuse me?” Fire fills Anne’s eyes as the words hit her. The insinuation stings like a slap across her cheeks. Something she had also endured while at this place.

“Looking a little cleaned up since the last time I saw ya. But still just as ugly.”

“Who are you?” Gilbert growls the words and his protective tone makes Anne instantly feel less defensive, and just more desperate to leave. 

“Please, Gil--let’s just go.” He relents after seeing the look on Anne’s face.

The door slams behind them.

“Who was that? What… what was that? Why… how could she talk to you like that?” Gilbert shouts, to no one in particular.

“We were here. Together. When--when I was here, she was here. She and I... it was… it was a long time ago. I--I can’t believe she’s still here.”

He stares at her again now, eyes full of rage and sadness, processing all that must have happened to Anne in those years before. Anne shudders a bit, a mixture of shame and heartbreak.

But suddenly Gilbert seems to flip into a new mode: action, like one of Miss Stacey’s light bulbs turning on. “I have an idea,” he says. “But we have to hurry.”

“Gilbert Blythe! I am not hurrying anywhere. I am in the depths of despair and I’ll be lucky to make it back to Avonlea.” She glared at him, tears spilling out of her eyes. How could he not see how shattered she was?

“I’ve taken notice of that. Remember? I’m here to keep you out of those ditches.” He grabs her hand and starts running, pulling her along. His mind is racing as fast as his feet, uncharacteristically impulsive, mentally trying to calculate if there’s enough time for this. Enough time to get to the local church and check the records there, and then still make it to the ferry. He explains all this to her, as they gasp for breath.

They are still running and gulping for air (Anne in between sobs) and also still, notably, holding hands when the church appears before them.

“Why are we doing this, Gilbert? Why are we here? I don’t even want to know anymore. It’s too… it’s too hard. What if they did just dump me there? What if they never even loved me? It’s all so… so… pathetic.”

“It’s not, Anne. You have to know. You can only know something when you know it. Even if… even if it’s not what you hoped for.”

Gilbert frantically bangs on the church door, knowing that every moment counts. Not waiting for an answer, he jiggles the door handle and finds it locked.

Anne slumps down onto the steps, burying her head in her hands. Of course it is locked. Her final glimmer of hope, sniffed out just like a candle at the end of the night. She is cursed. She always has been, from the moment she was born. Isn’t that why everyone despises orphans? She brings nothing but bad luck and shame and poor breeding with her, everywhere.

Marilla was right, she thinks. This search is foolish. It was never going to give her peace. Or answers. Or love. It was time to accept the fate she had always kept pushed in the far recesses of her mind, instead romanticizing herself with storylines full of adoration and affection from her birth parents. She tells herself it is time to finally accept reality. She is not the fanciful Princess Cordelia. She never was. She is plain, boring Anne. 

Be grateful for the friendships and the adoptive family you have now, she says to herself. You got out of that orphanage. You made it to Avonlea. You are blessed. Stop selfishly wanting more.

“Hey Carrots, are you going to come in and help me or what?”

Anne whips her head around to see that during her internal pep talk, Gilbert has squeezed through an open window along the side of the church, and is now propping open the previously locked church door, looking at her with that teasing glimmer in his eye that seems to belong to him alone. 

“Gilbert Blythe, if I wasn’t so ever in your debt with gratefulness, I would smash a slate over your head.”

“No time for that. We have a quest to finish and a ferry to catch.”

Twenty minutes later, they locate Walter and Bertha’s names in the church record book, revealing what Anne had been so desperate to find. Her parents had died. Three months to the day after she was born, sixteen years ago. What she had started to believe was just a fantasy conjured up in her own vivid imagination was true. 

“I was loved.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Neither of them realize it at the moment of course, but this hug begins to unlock a chain of events that would affect them both for the rest of their lives, entwining him with her and her with him forever."
> 
> Thank you for coming to the end with me, and for all the kudos and comments. My first AWAE fanfiction and it may not be my last. What a loving community of kindred spirits!

The mood is drastically lighter, at least for Anne, as they settle in for the ferry ride home. The day had been both truly awful and incredibly liberating. She had underestimated just how freeing it would feel to have some closure and to know just a little bit more than she had the day before.

“What a day,” he says, seeming to read her mind.

“How did you know to look at the church?” she asks.

“Her question. That girl cleaning the floor. It was so … well, it was so rude. But it also reminded me that every birth, every marriage, every,” he pauses. “Every death is recorded in the church books.”

She looks at him now, and sees a look of anguish on his face. In such stark contrast to her own feelings of contentment. 

“What was it like? At St. Alban’s?” he asks.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. It’s just… I just can’t imagine you being there.”

“Well, it was… an orphanage. Could have been worse, I suppose. They fed me. Gave me shelter. I guess I should be grateful for that.” She felt like spitting the words, though.

“Grateful? It had to have been awful, Anne. No child deserves to be in a place like that.” He runs his fingers through his curls again. “I just--I could never have pictured something so cold. And sad. And lifeless. And the way you must have been treated. It’s… it’s...”

“Well… it certainly makes Green Gables feel like a castle. And I would do well to remember what Marilla and Matthew have done for me and how well I’m treated now.” She winces at the thought of how she has been behaving toward Marilla lately.

“You know, you never answered me earlier. What are those notes?”

She had forgotten she was still clinging to the papers she had gathered from the attic floor. Her hidden treasures, her only escape from the nightmare that was her early years. 

“Oh, it’s silly, really. I used to write these stories. I guess to entertain myself? About a princess. Princess Cordelia. Isn’t that just the most divine name you’ve ever heard? She lived a magnificent life full of love. It was childish, really. I… I don’t know why I did it. Or why I’m still holding on to them.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Anne wonders if they have finally exhausted all conversation and feelings about this day.

“I think it was how you survived,” he says after a while, looking at her with admiration.

“No, no, it was silly. And foolish.”

“You did what you had to do. To get out. If not physically, then mentally.”

He continues. “I did the same thing, Anne. I mean, I physically escaped to survive. After my dad--” He doesn’t finish the thought. 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Anne says, looking at his somber face. 

They sit a moment, with this idea that they are both survivors. 

“Do you need some air? I need fresh air.” He stands up abruptly and gestures to her to join him outside on the deck of the ship. 

The wind whips around them, but she’s so thankful for the way the air fills her lungs. The pieces of her life that had felt as fragmented as the scraps of paper she held in her hands were finally beginning to make sense. 

“I used to sneak out onto the deck of the ship whenever I could,” he says to her, practically shouting over the roar of the wind. “It was the only place I could get some peace and quiet. To think.”

“Yeah.” She looks out at the water and gets lost in her own thoughts.

“I understand it now,” he says to her.

“Understand what?”

“What you said to me, the day of my dad’s funeral. I’ve never been so angry with you as I was that day.”

“Oh, Gilbert, I was ridiculous to say those things to you. I don’t know how you ever could forgive me.”

“Well, that’s what I thought then. But I … I get it now. After seeing what we saw today. At St. Alban’s. Honestly, I’m selfishly thankful for it.”

“Thankful? How? That can’t possibly be.” She had called him lucky. How could she say that to him, on his darkest of days? How could an orphan, of all people, call someone lucky after losing their parents? It still stings her to this day.

“Your experience at St. Alban’s, Anne. It made you… well, it made you you. It gave you empathy. And perspective. I couldn’t see it then, but I can now. And your empathy is such a gift to the people in your life. All of us. I know it’s a gift to me.” He turns to face her directly.

Gilbert Blythe has a way of asking deep meaningful questions without ever opening his mouth. Just by the way his eyebrows tilt up or down or sideways could make Anne feel as though she was being asked to ponder the meaning of life itself. Only she could never really be sure what he was asking. And that’s the look he’s giving her now.

Without knowing the question, she tries to answer him anyway.

She wraps her arms around him and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Not caring at all about propriety. Not knowing in the slightest what he would think of this sign of affection. Not fearing whether he would reject her. It’s what she had wanted to do at the gravesite that day.

And as he returns her embrace and tightens his own arms around her, pressing her even closer until they meld together as one body, she wonders if this is real, or if she has somehow slipped back into the stories of Princess Cordelia on those scraps of paper.

Neither of them realize it at the moment of course, but this hug begins to unlock a chain of events that would affect them both for the rest of their lives, entwining him with her and her with him forever. 

Weeks later, they would again embrace, this time in complete agony as they tried to make sense of the horrific news of Mary’s diagnosis. The familiarity of their embrace, having done it on this day and on this ferry, would be their only comfort in those dark days to come. They would not run from the pain this time. Steadied by Anne’s affection moments earlier, as Mary gasps her final words to Gilbert, telling him to marry for love, only for love, he knows without a doubt just who that is for him. Who it has always been. Who it could only ever be.

Months later, after a particularly flirtatious dance practice, it is Mary’s parting advice that spurs Gilbert to ask if he could walk her home as they stand face to face in the school cloakroom. Instead of running from his question, Anne will recall the tenderness of this day on the ferry, and the moments since, and say yes. This leads to daily walks, which eventually brings them to whispers of heartfelt confessions about feelings, shared over fence gates and along forest-lined paths. 

Later still comes sweet, stolen kisses behind trees, in barns, tucked away in orchards, during study sessions, in parlors, at county fairs, on trains, and really anywhere they can escape Mrs. Lynde’s prying eyes. When they part ways to pursue their education, the memory and warmth of those kisses and declarations of love linger on letters that are sent back and forth across Canada as quickly as the post office can deliver them. Words that must sustain them for achingly long periods of time until the day comes when he can slip that ring on her finger and they can build the life they’ve dreamed of. Not just as husband and wife, but as equals and partners with an unbreakable bond of love. Nothing holding them back.

But on the ferry that day, the churning waves and the winds of fate surrounding them, they didn’t know what lay ahead on that distant horizon. The far-off line where sky meets the sea that they had each stared at in the past, wondering where the other was, if they would ever see each other again. But they do know more than they did when they set out that morning. He was learning to tell her what he was thinking and feeling. To be truly, completely himself with her. She was learning to accept how he feels, to believe it, to allow herself to return those feelings, and to find herself worthy of happiness and love.

And most importantly, they know the one precious thing that was as real to them both now as anything had ever been.

Gilbert whispers into her ear, so she was sure to hear him over the wind. “You’re not alone anymore, Anne.”

“Neither are you, Gilbert.”

“We never will be again.”


End file.
